


What Dreams May Come

by angelsandbrowncoats



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Post-Season/Series 03 Finale, amnesia (sort of), damn this is like the closest i've come to writing smut in my life, maybe in another ten years i'll actually try it, minor product placement, some shoddy attempts at humor, there is some gore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-29
Updated: 2017-06-29
Packaged: 2018-11-20 22:12:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11344128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelsandbrowncoats/pseuds/angelsandbrowncoats
Summary: Ed wakes, shivering - freezing, really - and it all comes back to him. The cages, the chase, the docks. But he isn't delusional. He knows it was all a dream. He knows Oswald is no more than a rotting corpse at the bottom of the river.That does not explain why he is standing in the doorway, though.





	What Dreams May Come

**Author's Note:**

> Everybody's been putting out theories about what happens when Ed thaws out, so I thought I'd throw a few into the mix. One thought I had was that rather than fully forgetting, Ed is just super disoriented, leading him to believe it was all just a hallucination/dream.

He awoke in a fit of violent shivers.

So a normal night's sleep.

Ed blinked slowly, his mind a jumble of thoughts that were more emotion than structure. He'd dreamed quite a bit last night, little of it good. He had been curled up on the floor, beaten and kicked, as his father stood above him. No, that wasn't his father, it was a stranger? No, now it was Oswald? He'd screamed then, begging, pleading with him to stop. To listen. They were stronger together, they needed each other to... what? No, now Oswald was the one pleading as Ed towered over him, a gun in his hand. Why was there a gun in his hand? Of course! He needed to kill Oswald to avenge Kristen. No, not Kristen? Kristen was behind him, laughing, cackling. Quiet, he needed quiet! And he got it. Silence falling before a shot rang out, making him jump. Who had..? Oh. It was him. Oswald was bleeding out now, but he wasn't crying. He was just standing there, looking at Ed with disappointment.

_"Please. No."_

He heard the words but Oswald's lips hadn't moved. And they'd been the wrong voice.

He gasped. They were _his_ voice.

_Anything but disappointment. Rage, fear, tears, anything but that._

His hands were shaking, and so was his head. Something was wrong. Why was Oswald so calm? Why was he looking at him like that? Why wouldn't he _say something?_

And then Oswald's flesh began falling off, bit by rotted bit, and filthy river water gushed out of the holes that were left behind. But as Ed watched, helpless to do anything, the water became bullets, pouring out of him in droves.

He didn't want this. He never wanted this.

Ed leapt forward, hands outstretched, desperate to stop it.

And then he'd woken up.

He was still shaking, he felt like he was freezing. A cold sweat. The comforter was bunched in his grasp, fingers stiff and white around it. He was still in the manor. A gasp of... what? relief? regret? escaped his lips and he felt his body go slack against the mattress. It was all just a dream.

His suit was still on, completely soaked, but he supposed he hadn't had the agency to remove it. He'd overdosed, clearly, and temporarily blacked out on his way to bed.

And then the emptiness returned.

_It was all just a dream._

Oswald was still dead, rotting at the bottom of the river. He wasn't still alive, like he'd been in the dream.

_"Oswald? You're alive?"_

He shuddered at the recollection. He'd felt so relieved and so guilty for feeling relieved. But then they'd teamed up. As if. As if Oswald would ever look at him like he had in that strange prison.

_Bird cages._

He snorted. Where had his brain come up with something that ridiculous? It should have tipped him off.

But that feeling of being alive, as brief as it had been, hurt more than all the horror and gore combined. He would torture himself day and night for a few seconds of that feeling. The thrill of watching Oswald kill, of being at his side, however briefly, of staring him down and looking back. Dear god how he wanted it.

But it was all just a dream.

"Well, well, well. Look at who finally decided to rejoin the world of the living," the voice came from the doorway and he jumped.

How much had he taken last night for the hallucination to still be there?

"Not you," he replied despondently. After all, a hallucination is just a projection of his mind. Oswald already knew how much Ed missed him.

"Oh please, are you _already_ back at that? I thought we'd clearly established that I am like a cockroach."

Ed flinched as his dream-self's words were spat back at him.

"I wish. You know I'm killing myself to keep seeing you."

That had the hallucination pausing on his path towards Ed.

"I'm sorry?"

"The drugs. You know as well as I do, well you know _exactly_ as I do, that the drugs are going to kill me eventually. But I can't stop. Because it's the closest I can get to the way I used to feel in your - in his - presence."

"His?"

"Oswald's."

The hallucination looked truly concerned now, "I don't follow."

"Don't be ridiculous. Your thoughts are my thoughts. You can't _not_ follow."

The hallucination began moving forward again, hands outstretched, as if to reach for him. Ed flinched away, shoving himself back as far as he could.

"Please don't," he whispered, "You know I can't touch you. Don't get my hopes up again."

"Listen, Edward, whatever your game is, it won't work. I've long since buried any concern I felt on your behalf. You were unfrozen because there's a new threat to Gotham and we need everyone available, but I won't hesitate to put you back in the ice once this is over."

"What ice?" was all he could think to say.

"The ice where I've kept you for four months? You've been on display in my club for a third of the year. Now stay still," Oswald had moved closer in Ed's confusion and suddenly the hallucination was upon him, only...

"I can feel you. Why can I feel you?" Ed breathed out, "You - you're not real. You're a hallucination. I've never been able to touch you before."

Oswald froze, "A hallucination? You think I'm a hallucination?"

"Of course you're a hallucination. I've been taking drugs to hallucinate you for weeks, you know this," he felt his lower lip tremble as he continued, "Besides, if you were real, I'd already be dead. Oswald Cobblepot never showed mercy to those who betrayed him, and I did so much more..."

"More?"

"It was like Kristen all over again... but not. He, he passed my test. He really did love me. But no one ever loves me for long, if at all. And for those that did, I think it's worse when they stop. When they realize what a mistake they made. I'm not an idiot. I know half the reason Kristen was horrified of me after she discovered what I'd done was that she'd finally given into my advances. She allowed herself to trust me after I'd already broken her trust, and I don't even regret it. And Oswald...

So similar but different. In a way I don't regret that, either, because _he_ betrayed my trust. Betrayed me. But... I miss him. I miss him so much. And I want him back more than anything but I don't because I don't want to see him hate me. I didn't just destroy him, I - ," he broke off as he choked on a sob, "I looked him in the eye, _knowing_ that he'd proven his love for me, and I, I shot him! I know he'd hate me all the more for that, like Kristen, but unlike her... he _knew me_. I killed the only man who ever knew everything about me and still accepted me, loved me. I wasn't delusional enough to think Isabella would ever kill with me like Oswald had, I just didn't want the dream to end. I didn't want to be alone. Apparently, I wasn't alone and I didn't even realize.

But it doesn't matter anymore, because I'm alone now. And I don't know why I'm telling you all of this. You already know it."

The hallucination was staring at him, and there was something different about him. His face was shiny. Wet.

"Oh god, please don't."

"What?"

"You're rotting again. Please stop. I don't want to see the river water pouring out of your corpse in the middle of my bedroom. Please."

The hallucination reached up to touch his face, almost confused, as if he half expected to find rotted out holes in his face.

Ed half expected it too.

And then the hallucination wiped the water off with a sleeve and he was dry again. He looked almost alive. Like he had in his dream. But... better, somehow. Stronger. Healthier.

And now that he was paying attention, the damn top hat was back.

"Would you mind?" he gestured at it, "I thought we'd moved on."

There was that look of confusion again.

"Moved on from what?"

"You trying to seduce me into admitting my feelings to myself. Yes, okay, I was in denial because I couldn't handle how much it hurt! It's not exactly easy to fall in love with someone, realize they could never love you back, try to move past them, and then have your efforts thwarted by them in an absolute betrayal of trust, only to hear them claim they loved you all along. Because it's too much. Too much to imagine what could have been. What can never be. I didn't want to admit that I'd screwed myself over more massively than the time I fell for Jimbo's stupid ploy and landed myself in Arkham. Okay?"

The hallucination was gaping at him now and he sighed in irritation. When he answered, the words were cautious, selected with the precision of a surgeon, "Why could it never be?"

"Well aside from the fact that you're currently feeding the fishes and I'm a wanted man who gets off on hallucinating his best friend who he murdered in cold blood," Ed replied sarcastically, "Supposing you really were still alive, how could I ever trust you again? And how could you forgive me?"

There was a pause, as if the hallucination was thinking, and then, slowly, quietly, "What about a truth serum?"

Ed scoffed, "Sure, if such a thing existed."

"It does."

"I'm sorry?"

"I have a truth serum. If I can somehow convince you I am, in fact, alive, and not a hallucination, we could use that. I'm sure you'd need proof that it works, but that can be arranged. I trust it, and I would accept anything you said under its influence as the truth."

"I don't understand," Ed was looking at his hands, brows knit, "I don't know about a truth serum."

"And?"

"Then you can't... Unless... Tell me what happened since you died."

Oswald gave an account startlingly similar to his dream, but with a much clearer plot.

"After you were frozen, I opened the Iceberg Lounge. Business is great. Some new vigilante's been making a splash, but he's not confident enough to go after the major players yet. Butch was dead for awhile. Pity you had to miss that, I know how you always hated him. I can show you the newspapers, if you like?"

"Yes. But, if you really are alive - and the evidence is growing, especially considering the fact that I've been asleep and you've been here for hours, but I haven't had any more pills - then why, really, didn't you kill me? You could have kept me around without needing me to be alive."

Oswald stared at him for a long time before he sighed, "You're not as clever as you like to think you are."

Ed didn't reply. His infallible methods had been twisted against him. Oswald was still tiers above him, above the 'Riddler'. He'd lost. Obviously he wasn't as clever as he'd thought he was.

"Love is a fickle thing."

Ed's eyes snapped to Oswald's.

"What?"

"I couldn't kill you, Ed. I can't. There was a time when I would have been too scared to admit it, but I'm not. Because I can always beat you. I don't want to. I can't even enjoy it. That's why I allowed you to get the upper hand, you know. I may have passed your test, but you didn't pass mine. I had no choice. If I must, then I will, but I am not Carmine Falcone and I _cannot_ kill you."

Ed leaned forward, breaths coming in short, sharp gasps, "Why?"

He needed to hear him say it, he needed proof. Because he couldn't believe it. No one could love him for long. No one persisted. Once he self-sabotaged, it was over. That's just how it was.

"Because I still love you, Ed. Is that what you wanted to hear?"

"Yes," he breathed out the word, "Ever since you lunged at me in the cage. You hated me so much. I could see it in your eyes and... it hurt. More than I thought it would. And I realized what I'd done. To you, to myself, it didn't matter. I expected Kristen to love me for killing her abusive boyfriend. I never did understand her reaction. And I wondered, sometimes, if you thought Isabella was hurting me, or if you did it just to get her out of your way. And then I wondered if I would have killed Dougherty if he'd done that to somebody else, somebody _I_ didn't want. You still betrayed my trust, but how can I hate you for doing something I've done? I just want it all to be over. To be good again. All the pain that I caused you and all the pain that you caused me... it was so pointless. I miss you. I want you back. I'm tired of fighting."

"Then let us prove to each other once and for all that we are sincere, and maybe we shall both finally get our wish."

~ ~ ~

~ ~ ~

It was the way the floorboard creaked that woke Ed. It was too familiar.

The sound of someone trying desperately not to get caught.

He sat up slowly, rubbing the crust out of his eyelashes and reaching blindly for his glasses. His hand hit something warm and soft instead.

Squinting, he turned to his side, finding not the bedside table but a living, breathing (definitely not rotting) person.

Oswald.

Ed gasped, a smile creeping onto his face as memories from the previous day emerged.

_After Oswald had thoroughly convinced him of his realness, Ed was given a suit. Purple. He frowned, but anything was better than his sopping wet, freezing current outfit._

_Feeling warm and snug, like coming inside out of a rainstorm and settling down with a mug of tea, Ed made his way down to the parlor. Oswald sat at the head of the table, the girl - Ivy, he recalled - in his (old) usual spot at Oswald's right hand. She smirked at him, innocent and smug and knowing and hateful at the same time._

_To Oswald's left sat a man Ed couldn't fail to recognize. Harvey Bullock._

_He was tied down and spitting curses left and right._

_"You'll want to know Ivy's truth serum is effective. You cannot take my word or hers, as you do not trust us yet. I understand. Let me give you evidence."_

_He'd gestured to Ivy and she had leaned forward, bringing her wrist up Bullock's nose._

_"Do sit down, Ed, we're going to have a lot of fun."_

_~ ~ ~_

_Listening to Harvey Bullock spill some of his deepest secrets, hearing him give classified information to two criminals - two criminals he **despised** \- was more than enough proof for Ed. But it **was** entertaining so when Oswald asked if he believed, Ed shrugged and said he wasn't quite there yet. Oswald had only grinned in return._

_Oswald went next, a show of good will, since he had Ivy to protect him and Ed would be vulnerable, completely at their mercy, when it was his turn._

_"Go on. Ask him whatever it is you need to know. Go too far and I will make you suffer," Ivy told him once Oswald had inhaled her perfume._

_"Do you regret killing Isabella?"_

_"No."_

_Ed flinched._

_"I only regret that it separated us."_

_"If you could go back, knowing what you know now, would you still kill her?"_

_"No."_

_"Why not?"_

_"Because you taught me what true love means. I should have been able to suffer for you."_

_"Why didn't you tell me you loved me?"_

_"I was afraid."_

_That, at least, Ed could understand._

_"Surely you must have noticed how I felt? I thought I was obvious."_

_"I thought it was wishful thinking. You were too good to be true. You still are."_

_Ed felt himself give a dry sob. He wasn't. He really wasn't._

_"If I come back to you, can I trust you never to hurt me for your own gain again?"_

_"Yes."_

_And then it had been Ed's turn. He was still a bit hazy on what had happened. He knew Oswald had demanded multiple times that he deny loving him, and he knew that he had not been able to._

_When he'd finally come back to himself, he felt inordinately safe._

_He was also wrapped in Oswald's arms._

_~ ~ ~_

_Much of the rest of the day had been spent planning, after Ed received a brief tour of the place he had lived for the last four months. Ed had been freed for a reason, after all, and that reason had not disappeared or paused itself simply to allow Ed and Oswald to make up._

_Butch was back and scarier than ever, and he was teamed up with some mysterious and powerful person._

_Ed rolled his eyes. How many mysterious and powerful people could one city possibly have._

_~ ~ ~_

_By the time dinner rolled around, Fries and Pike were more than fed up with, quote, "the veritable fog of sexual tension that had descended upon the club since Ed's return". Fries offered to get burgers (the term 'get' being used rather loosely, in such a way that it may or may not have involved holding up a Wendy's in order to acquire free food and unlimited Frosties, which also may or may not have been the cause of a slew of puns, initially all on the part of Bridgit but eventually from the others, including of a few of the hostage/employees) and the two forcefully dragged a reluctant and somewhat confused Ivy along with them._

_They'd talked then, trying to get a grasp on their relationship. Neither had been able to hide the truth of what they wanted, and frankly, they were too tired to try. So they didn't._

_"I wanted our first date to be a homemade feast," Oswald had said, "There was so much food for that dinner."_

_"I would have liked that," he'd replied, "I don't think I ever told you, but on my first date with Kristen, I cooked for her. I thought it would be more romantic. More personal. I think she was disappointed. I should have known my perfect match would've had the same thoughts."_

_"And yet," Oswald shrugged, "we must still be disappointed. There isn't enough time to cook dinner. Not one nice enough for our first date. And you've had nothing but toast in four months. You're weaker than you think. I'm taking you out somewhere and we'll just have to deal."_

_~ ~ ~_

_The food had been delicious, and the staff polite (if terrified). One waitress had been bolder, informing the Penguin, after she'd brought the bill he demanded, that he was far more considerate than their average wealthy clientele. He'd asked her why she kept the job if she hated it so much, and her answer, naturally, was that she needed the money. Oswald had told her that he'd liked her spirit and offered her an interview to wait for the Iceberg Lounge, instead._

_"If anyone is rude in my establishment, they will be removed," he'd said, sincere in every word._

_Ed couldn't help but love him all the more._

_~ ~ ~_

_Then they'd returned home, becoming delirious after a long and trying day, the emotions they'd held back finally overwhelming them. Ed all but dragged Oswald to his bed, not that the Penguin had resisted._

_But once there, with the object of his affections finally, **finally** beneath him, smiling, right where he belonged, Ed collapsed._

_It was too much._

_It was too little_

_It couldn't be real._

_It felt **very** real._

_He'd experienced panic attacks his entire life, they were old hat these days. He barely even registered the quickened breaths and the crushing feeling, focusing only on fixing the chaos in his mind._

_But then something happened that had never happened before._

_Someone interrupted._

_"Ed, Ed, listen to me. Calm down. Breath. That's it," Oswald's voice spoke softly, murmuring into his ear as he held him, stroking a hand up and down his back, "Everything is going to be fine. Everything **is** fine."_

_The panic subsided, ebbing away into something... new._

_If he had to guess at a name, he would have guessed peace._

_He curled up, making himself as small as he could, and laid his head on Oswald's chest. Oswald's heartbeat pounded in his ears and he sighed. It was real. It was all real._

_He felt a hand come up to caress his face, pet his hair, and he melted into it. Nothing had ever felt this good before. Nothing could compare to the feeling of being loved._

_"I love you."_

_It was the first time he'd said it so plainly, the first time since they were trying to figure out where they stood._

_He heard Oswald's heartbeat falter before it's pace quickened._

_"And I love you."_

_He sighed in contentment and stretched upward to press an open mouthed kiss to Oswald's collarbone, the furthest up he could reach from his position._

_"We should kill again sometime. Together."_

_And with those words, some switch was flipped. The gentle atmosphere turning steadily more and more heated until both criminals were too exhausted to continue._

Ed gave another contented sigh, letting his own fingers stroke the bare skin of Oswald's shoulder. He felt giddy, absolute glee and delight bubbling up inside, because something had gone _right_ for once in his life. He'd been allowed to have a nice thing. Maybe, if he was truly lucky, he'd even be allowed to keep it.

And then the floorboard creaked again and Ed sat up sharply. His hand went to his other side, finding the cool metal, plastic, and glass of his glasses. He slipped them on and scanned the room. The creak had been too close for comfort.

A flicker of movement caught the moonlight streaming in through the window. Neither man had had the presence of mind to close the curtains the previous night, and Ed was glad. Now he could see the intruder.

Tall, lean, sneaky (Barbara? he wondered, mind already searching for something to use as a weapon. Tabitha?).

Then they took another step and he saw it was the girl. Ivy.

He frowned. What was she trying to do? Was she turning on Oswald? He had seemed to trust her, but then again, he'd trusted Ed, too.

Ed was also becoming increasingly aware of the fact that he was wearing nothing but boxers. He was almost too shocked to be embarrassed. Since when did he go shirtless around others? Since when did he go shirtless at all? Even with Kristen and Isabella he'd been careful, not wanting them to see too much, not wanting to have to explain.

He realized he'd never been nervous of that around Oswald and he wondered how it had taken him so long to figure it out.

However, exception though Oswald may be, his little plant protege was not.

"What are you doing here?" he hissed at her, pulling a sheet up to his chin.

She jumped when he addressed her, an all too familiar flinch and he apologized on instinct.

"The question still stands, though," he added.

"Victor and Bridgit made us leave so abruptly last night, and then they told me not to stay at the manor overnight. I wasn't sure why and I was worried so I came back and you weren't in your room. I heard what you said when you were under, so I do believe that you aren't going to betray him again, but... someone could have taken you both. I didn't realize you'd be," she didn't finish the sentence, opting instead to wave her hand about in their general direction.

"Ah. I'm glad Oswald has found someone so loyal," Ed said, "But would you mind..?"

"Oh. Right. Sorry. See you at breakfast," she gave a wave and slipped out of the room. Ed rolled his eyes, glancing around for a clock.

4:28

Well, earlier than was probably wise, but after being essentially asleep for four months, Ed wasn't feeling especially tired. Running his fingers over Oswald's shoulder one last time and leaning down to let his lips linger on the spot his hand had been, Ed carefully got out of bed. He knew from their days in the apartment that Oswald was mostly a heavy sleeper, but that he'd trained himself to wake for certain cues.

Extracting himself, somewhat reluctantly, from Oswald's warm embrace, Ed made sure that his... boyfriend? would not wake early.

My, but he liked the sound of that.

By the time he got dressed and entered the kitchen, the clock read 4:46. More than enough time to make breakfast.

~ ~ ~

A stack of pancakes, a plate of bacon, a pan of sausages, four sunny-side-up eggs, a pile of toast, and a basket of apple scones later, Ed was about to put the finishing garnishes on the table when he heard a crash in the hallway followed by a thundering on the stairs.

Instantly on the alert, he grabbed a nearby knife (un-serrated) and cautiously approached the door.

He was four steps away when it flung open to reveal none other than Oswald himself, a robe not even tied hanging around his shoulders, his hair a complete mess, and his eyes red and wild.

They both froze, staring at each other in shocked silence.

Ed's grip slackened and the knife clattered to the floor.

They both jumped.

"Is everything alright?" Ed asked, hesitant.

Oswald hadn't moved from his position in the doorway.

"You. You're really. You're really still here. You're free. And here. You didn't leave. You didn't kill me," he raised a hand to his collarbone, to the exact spot where Ed had first (had finally) kissed him, "You - Is that breakfast?"

Ed's grin blossomed and he nodded, feeling a surge of enthusiasm akin to those he'd experienced back when he'd worked for the GCPD, back when he'd still had hope.

"You didn't let me cook for you last night."

Ed never did figure out how a man with a damaged leg could go from standing six feet away by the door to being pressed flush against him in under one second, but in his defense he was rather preoccupied.

"I cannot believe I waited this long to have you. You are perfect, Edward Nygma. No man alive could wish for more."

Ed had some serious doubts about that, but he said only, "Think of it as delayed gratification."

"Hmm," Oswald frowned, settling into his chair and reaching for the nearest dish.

"But as sweet as the wait may have made it, I have no wish to repeat such a thing. I am not nearly patient enough, especially now that I know my feelings are returned."

"On that, my love, we are agreed."

Ed felt a shiver run down his spine at the endearment and he hurried to join Oswald.

"Call me that again."

"What, 'my love'?"

"Yes."

"Of course, my love."

There was a pause as Oswald waited for a reaction before realizing Ed intended to do nothing more than bask in his new position. Unable to resist, Oswald asked, "So you prefer that to 'The Riddler'?"

Ed hid his face in his hands, not wanting Oswald to see him blush as he nodded.

"I'm sorry, for the record," he said, voice muffling slightly in his hands, "for all that posturing. I felt so unhinged, even to myself. I didn't know if I wanted you to fall at my feet, begging for my love, or to kill me so that I could escape the consequences of what I'd done to you. And I'm really sorry about sticking that gun in your face and threatening you. I can only imagine how uncomfortable it must have been."

Oswald coughed and Ed glanced over at him. He seemed to be turning red, too, although he was handling it with much more dignity than Ed.

"What?"

"To be perfectly honest with you, if it hadn't been for the fact that you wanted to kill me, I think I would have quite enjoyed that."

Oh.

_Oh_.

"I, I'm not entirely sure what to do with that information."

"Don't worry, I'm sure we'll have time to figure it out."

Thankfully, the conversation soon steered into more comfortable and familiar waters. By the time Ivy descended for breakfast, Ed was even feeling confident enough to smirk about his newly reclaimed seat.

Ivy stuck out her tongue and took the chair across from him, Oswald's other side.

And Ed decided he was okay with that.

With time he might even grow fond of her, the way Oswald seemed to have.

Things were falling into place at last.

**Author's Note:**

> This really didn't turn out the way I wanted it to, but I guess I'm okay with where it went. Leave a comment if you liked it, or if you have any thoughts on my take on things, or anything, really. Theories are very welcome here and on my tumblr, singtheskyandfightlikehell


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